The End of Nothing at All
by thehappysisyphus
Summary: Dean is back from purgatory. Things are looking... bleak. There may be some spoilers for season 8, though nothing huge. Some Wincest, some Destiel, some language, and some other things.


**a/n: in case you missed it, there is Wincest, a dash of Destiel, language, and a touch of sexual situations. this is not a happy story. I hope you read and review despite (or hey, ****_because_****) all of that. con-crit is welcomed**

* * *

He's just kinda laying there, staring at the ceiling and thinking of nothing, when Sam creeps into the room.

"Hey, where've you been?" he murmurs into the darkness. His voice cracks. Not because he's sad, but from disuse. It's late, he reassures himself. He just hasn't spoken in awhile.

He can see Sam jump at the sound, and then freeze. "Um, hey. Hey man. What're you doin' awake?"

"Heard the door," Dean answers. "It's funny. Didn't realize you were out."

"Yeah," Sam says. He tugs off his shirt and slips out of his jeans.

"You didn't answer my question."

Sam clears his throat. Hovers. Climbs into the other bed. The wrong bed. "Yeah. Sorry." Pulls the covers to his neck, still doesn't answer. Dean doesn't pry. He's tired, and it's late.

o0o

"What happened in purgatory, Dean?" Sam asks as he plucks slivers of glass from Dean's knuckles. Dean doesn't answer. He figures he doesn't have to, because Sam never tells Dean where he goes off to at night. Dean remembers, though, years back, when Sam would sneak out and see that demon bitch. Back when Dean was fresh from Hell. He remembers and it leaves a bad taste on his tongue. He wants to bring this up and see Sam flounder. He doesn't.

o0o

Sam's got Dean's wrists pinned above his head and his face buried in Dean's neck as he pounds into him.

Dean's staring at the ceiling, pretending he's not imagining getting fucked against a tree in a dark forest by an angel in a trench coat, red eyes always watching. They'd always laugh about it, the fact that nothing ever attacked while they fucked. Maybe was a sort of kindness the creatures in purgatory would offer during the night: figuring giving them a quick release was compensation enough for the non-stop chasing of The Human and The Angel during the day.

Dean does not tell Sam this, and does not mention how much hotter the sex was because of all of that. Hotter with Castiel, but now that he thinks about it, Sam too. Sam growls and cums, and Dean follows quickly, closing his eyes and staring straight into blue.

o0o

"I'm done hunting," Sam says. "When you were gone, I had something I never had before. A normal life."

It burns Dean down to his core, because it's not hunting Sam is done with, it's Dean that Sam is done with.

"Did you miss me? When I was gone?" Dean asks. Sam flounders. Dean tries not to enjoy it. He fails.

"Of course I missed you. What the hell kinda question is that?"

"An honest one," Dean says. Shakes his head. "You had a girl. It's okay, I get it. Do you miss her?"

"Dean…," Sam sighs.

"Me and Cas got together in purgatory," Dean answers. Sam gapes. "You know there was always something between us. I admitted things to myself down there. He said he'd always felt things for me anyways, that he'd been waiting for me to come 'round." Sam continues to gape. "I love him, Sam," Dean says, folds his hands on his lap. "I miss him all the time." They both pretend his voice doesn't crack.

Sam opens his mouth a couple times to say something, but nothing comes out. So Dean continues, because now, right now he's got something to say.

"There's no use in us both pining for things that are over with. Except… except yours doesn't have to be done, y'know Sammy? I see that now. I'm sad and you don't have to be, because yours is still here and she's alive and you can go to her, Sammy, and you probably should."

Sam puts his hand on Dean's shoulder, and it doesn't feel as insincere as Dean had hoped. "What about you, Dean?"

Dean smiles and says, "Your life shouldn't have to rely on mine. I'm selfish. I'm sorry."

"Your heart hasn't been into it for a long time, has it?" Sam says and Dean knows exactly what he's talking about.

"Maybe not. It's had other uses, though, hasn't it?"

"Yeah... But I like being close to you, I always have. The sex was. It was good, but it was about you and me, and nothing else. Please. Please don't think I'm doing this to stop being close to you. Please don't ever think that's what this is about."

This is the most honest either of them has been in years. It's awful.

"I'll miss you, Sammy," Dean whispers.

"We don't," Sam says, stops and clears his throat. "We don't have to go our separate ways. You could. Could come with me. Stay with me and Amelia. Get a job, as, I dunno, a mechanic, or something while I go back to school."

Dean snorts. "I can't. You know that."

"Worth a try," Sam says and bumps Dean's shoulder with his own.

They make love that night, and it's the first and the last time.

o0o

Sam calls every once in awhile, just to make sure Dean's still alive. Dean is, mostly.

They've been talking for about an hour. Dean's laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sam hasn't told Dean what he's doing or where.

"Hey," Dean says after a comfortable lull in the conversation. "You remember how when I got back from Big P's, you'd sneak out? Where did you go?"

Sam doesn't answer for awhile and Dean would worry that Sam has hung up but he can still hear Sam breathing.

"Sam?"

A sigh. "Does it matter?"

"Not really. Just curious."

Sam sighs again. Dean says, "You don't have to tell me. It was a long time ago."

"I couldn't stand the sound of you screaming."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

o0o

Dean stares at the door and thinks about crawling up and knocking, but reconsiders because he'd get blood everywhere and their house really is quite nice. It was selfish to come here. He wonders if Amelia knows about Sam's past, about him and things they've done. He sighs and pulls himself up from their yard, and staggers back to the Impala. He gets in and drives.

He dies alone about six miles away, pulled off on the side of the road.

o0o

Sam jerks awake and climbs out of bed, looking out of the window.

He could have sworn he heard the familiar rumble of a familiar engine. When Sam calls the next day, Dean does not pick up. He does not call back within the hour. Sam knows, then.

He lays down in bed, and he stares up at the ceiling, and he thinks of nothing at all.


End file.
